


rain keeps falling (down down down)

by watchtheleaves



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: ????? i guess, Canon Era, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Non-Binary Albert DaSilva, Yearning, albert loves him back so it’s ok, hand holding, i mean yes they hold hands, idk man, no angst for once, race is an idiot in love, race loves rainy days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23563102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchtheleaves/pseuds/watchtheleaves
Summary: race and albert sell together.
Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	rain keeps falling (down down down)

**Author's Note:**

> i Literally wrote this at four in the morning. moments later a bookshelf nearly fell on my head. anyway! i have no idea how good this is but i love these kids, so.
> 
> wash your hands!!

God, was Race lucky.

Well, yes, luck was rare in that side of the railroad. And yes, he didn’t even really believe in it that much. Yes, he was a raggedy-looking kid with barely anything to eat who was looked at by grownups like he was the flu in person. Race wasn’t stupid, he was well aware of the pitiful life he carried.

It had been raining, that day. Race loved bad weather, and he wouldn’t be caught dead admitting that selling under the rain instead of under some tree or awning was the main cause of all his colds. He loved the sounds, the feeling, the rush and slowness of a rain day. New York stopped and raced all at once, and all he had to do was stand and admire, and luckily sell papers. That was his one job.

Albert had partnered with him, that day. Brooklyn was too far and he didn’t really feel like walking.

“Ay, extra, extra!” They stood on their toes with such enthusiasm Race himself was impressed. “Heroic savior rescues puppies from a fire!”

Race raised an eyebrow. “That’s a new one.”

“People love dogs, don’t they,” Albert smirked. Race’s breath caught in his throat.

It was a busy day, of course. Their pockets were full and heavy, which was rare enough to leave them buzzing, but there was something else in the air that day.

Maybe Race was catching another cold. Maybe he just really loved rain days.

“What’ya gonna do with the money?” Albert asked, walking in zig zag across an alley. Race’s gaze was somewhere else. “Tonio?”

Race came back to reality, eyes snapping to Albert’s questioning ones. Water drew lines on their pale face, from their wet curls onto their forehead and down their cheeks. The freckles that ran from ear to ear and down their neck looked a lot like a starry sky, very much unlike the one above the two.

Someone coughed. “Shoes.”

Albert’s eyes went wide. “Woah, Race. How much’ve you made? You’s stealin’?”

“C’mon, Albie, I only steal food,” he scoffed. Albert laughed along and Race nearly choked. “I’s been savin’. Think Buttons can fix these old sports.”

“Sounds right,” Albert shrugged, smug grin on their face. “I can see your toes.”

“No ya can’t!” Race hit their arm lightly. Albert laughed louder. “You?”

“Savin’ too. Smalls’ birthday’s comin’ up, I think she wanted a hairpin, so...”

Race smiled. Albert had always had the tradition to buy the younger, newer newsies birthday presents with whatever they had saved. It was a sort of comfort they wanted to provide whenever they could — a demonstration. Just because they were poor didn’t mean they weren’t allowed to wish.

Albert looked damn good with their naturally wavy red hair, dripping and sticking out of their hat and onto their forehead. They kept kicking pavement, rocks, twigs, making way. Race admired them in silence.

“Somethin’ on my face?” Albert asked.

“You’s pretty.”

Race smiled a handsome smile, like it was nothing, and Albert frowned.

“What?”

“Yeah. You look good.”

“Oh.”

“I mean,” he backtracked when Albert didn’t seem to want to take the compliment. “Y’know. Like — New vest, right? Buttons made it? It looks good. As a vest.”

Albert looked at their vest, straightening it. “Yeah, it’s nice. Buttons’ really talented. Shame she’s stuck here sellin’ papes. She could be, like, famous.”

Race smiled. “Y’think?”

“Of course! Look what she can do with some scrapes. She could be a, uh — a professional. If she had the chance.”

Whenever the subject of their severe lack of money (or, well, any opportunities to have a life of their own) came up in a conversation, Albert turned down like their internal sun had just set. It was painful to watch. Race placed a hand in their shoulder.

“This is the hand we was dealt, Al,” he half-whispered. Albert looked up. “Buttons would make an amazing designer, or whatever they calls it. And Jojo would be the best teacher for lil’ kids, and Henry would have his own Deli, and Jack would sell his paintings for enough money to travel west and back. And you’d know the name of every single plant, and I’d speak every language. But—“

“This is the hand we was dealt,” Albert echoed, looking into his eyes. Race nodded.

Rain kept falling down around them.

“And we’s got us,” Race filled the silence. Albert’s eyes were shining with newfound spirit.

When evident that the conversation had ended, Race threw an arm around Albert’s shoulders, bringing them close before resuming their walk. 

“You’s very wise, sometimes,” Albert said.

“Learned from the best,” Race shrugged. When Albert looked at him, he added, “Finch.”

“Oh, shut up,” Albert laughed. Race’s face lit up.

They had to be just around the corner from the Lodging House, sun slowly beginning to set behind the clouds, when Albert spoke up again.

“You’s pretty too.”

Race nearly tripped with his own foot. “Hm?”

“Yeah. You’s got pretty eyes.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks,” Race said, but it sounded more like a dumbfounded question.

“Sure thing,” Albert shrugged. They studied Race, who was now staring intently at the ground, and slid a hand down his arm to hold his hand.

Race looked up so fast he could’ve hurt his neck. He intertwined his fingers with Albert’s and forced down a nervous cough or a stupid question.

“You’s got pretty hands, too,” Albert said, smiling.

The Lodging House came into vision soon enough, but their hands didn’t part — not like anyone would ask questions, not like they had kissed. But Albert’s hand felt nice and warm against his freezing, dripping body, and their jokes were nicer to hear from up close than their normal half-foot distance. Race could get used to it, but if not, the surprise and  _ something _ inside his chest was still enough to fuel him for a year.

Race looked up at Albert, laughing with everyone else as soon as they stepped foot inside the Lodging House, and felt a smile of his own growing wide.

God, was Race lucky. He was the luckiest boy in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> i have a twitter @NEWSIESLIVE where i talk about minor ensemble characters like they’re my best friends. i’m also on tumblr @whizzcrwins!
> 
> comments and kudos are always welcome <3 stay safe! wash! your! hands!


End file.
